The Frailty of the Mind
by Litta
Summary: Archie disappears for a short time after Horatio knocked him out, but shows up again in a Spanish prison. This is an account of his adventures during that time, including the reason he decides to live, and her name, is Abigail.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"It must be something, to walk in the sun with such a lovely woman," Archie Kennedy told Horatio, but mentioning Horatio's lovely companion brought up memories of the girl he once knew.

"Do you have a sweetheart in England, Archie?" Horatio asked him. Archie immediately thought more about Abigail, the only girl he had ever loved. He thought about their time together, however short it may have been. Unintentionally, he thought back to the day he met her . . .

--

The waves lapped against the side of the boat, rocking it back and forth. The movement forced Archie awake. He looked around him, noticing first the bright summer sun illuminating his position. Second, the Indefatigable was nowhere to be seen. His last memory put him in a small boat preparing to attack an enemy ship, only now he was alone in the small boat with no ship, enemy or friendly, in sight. He eased himself into a sitting position, trying to figure out his next move. As he sat up, his head reminded him of the last few minutes before Horatio knocked him out. He had been having a fit, he was pretty sure, for what other reason would Horatio have knocked him out. Raising his arm to feel the back of his head, he found a large bump from the blow, confirming his memories. Again, he looked around, this time spotting a ship in the distance. Without any sort of spy glass, he waited for the ship to draw closer to see its occupants. The flag told him they were French, meaning he was about to be captured by the enemy.

Archie merely waited for the French frigate to overtake him, with nowhere to run and no way to avoid capture. They drew alongside him and with guns pointed at him they sent a man down to bring him aboard. He had no energy to fight, nor any desire to get himself killed. The captain spoke first.

"Qui êtes-vous? Que faites-vous ici?"

Unfortunately, Archie only spoke English and a little Spanish. He couldn't understand a word of French. The captain repeated the questions, but still received no answer. He then spoke quickly to the soldier holding Archie who responded with what only Archie could guess was an acknowledgement of an order because he saluted the captain. The soldier pushed Archie forward and led him below deck, locking him in the brig and leaving him there.

"Who are you?" a voice asked from behind him, in perfect English. He turned around and saw a girl standing in the corner.

She wore a dress made of expensive-looking silk, a pale blue color which accented her grey eyes, trimmed in lace and ribbons, and silk gloves reaching above her elbows, though all were covered in dirt. Her ash blonde hair fell in ringlets around her face, very little still in the bun at the back of her head. Her skin, pale even in the dim light, was smudged with dirt and grime from the brig. She only came up to his shoulders when she stood, and everything about her seemed small and petite, even frail. By all appearances she looked about sixteen. He wondered who she was, and how she had come to be a prisoner on a French frigate. Her clothes were enough to tell him she was an aristocrat. She held herself with dignity, despite her surroundings and situation.

"Did you hear me?" she asked him, reminding him to answer her first question.

"Sorry miss. I am Midshipman Archie from His Majesty's Ship the Indefatigable," he told her, standing at attention. "Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"I am Abigail Spencer, daughter of George Spencer, Duke of Marlborough in England." She gave a curtsey, which Archie responded to with the required bow. Even in the dim cell in a French frigate, proper etiquette was observed.

As Archie thought about Abigail's status as a duke's daughter, he realized she probably spoke more than one language, and hopefully French. He decided to ask her.

"Do you speak French, Miss Spencer?"

"Please call me Abigail," she told him. "I hate the way it sounds when you call me 'Miss Spencer'. And I do speak French, but I do not want them to know that. Why do you ask?"

Archie tried to remember the words the captain asked him upon stepping onto the deck of the ship, and haltingly, in broken French, spoke them to Abigail. He then asked her to translate if she could.

"He asked who you were and what you were doing. He probably did not press the matter because it is obvious from your uniform that you are a British sailor."

"How did you come to be here?" Archie asked.

"My father decided to send me to Italy because of my poor health, and the ship was sailing around Spain to get there when this French ship attacked. I was in my cabin, and my body guard died keeping the French out of my room. When they found me, they took me prisoner. They killed everyone else aboard my ship and stole everything of value, including my family's jewels. That was a week ago."

"I am sorry you had to go through that," he said sincerely, wishing her circumstances on no one, especially a young woman. "Have you overheard anything about where the French are heading, or what they are planning?"

"They have mentioned a few cities, but I cannot remember them; they mean nothing to me. I suppose you would know what they meant."

"Yes. Next time you hear something, tell me. Hopefully we will learn something we can use to escape. Have they treated you well?"

"I suppose so, for a prisoner. They bring down bread and water twice a day. They let me use the bathroom once a day, but only if I remind them. Sometimes the sailors stay down here and yell things at me, thinking I cannot understand them, but of course I know what they are saying. Apparently the Captain has ordered them not to touch me, but they tell each other he never said they could not look at me, which is what they come down to do. They never stay long though. For the most part I am left down here by myself."

Archie felt his anger rise at the thought of men touching her. He could imagine what sort of things she overheard the men say. With no qualms as to their manners, thinking she cannot understand them, they probably use the foulest language and say the most abominable things. He pushed those thoughts aside, knowing they led nowhere.

"How did you get captured?" Abigail suddenly asked him.

Archie thought hard about his answer. He did not want to admit to having a fit, nor did he want to incriminate one of his shipmates, namely Simpson, with the accusation of setting him adrift, for that was the only explanation he could come up with. He knew Horatio would never let him go, but Simpson, a man of no apparent conscience, would not think twice about sending him off to an unknown end.

"I was separated from my ship by an unfortunate accident," he told her.

"What kind of accident?"

"I hit my head during a night attack, and the rope tying the boat I was in to the ship came loose, setting me adrift. I woke up and the French caught me."

"I am so sorry. Will your ship come looking for you?"

_Not if Simpson has anything to say about it,_ he thought wryly.

"No. They will consider me a casualty, lost at sea. A midshipman is not worth risking an entire crew for."

"Where does a midshipman rank?"

"We are the lowest of the officers, just above being a crew member. It is the starting point for men to work their way up the ranks to a higher position."

Archie went on to explain how the ranking worked, from midshipman to lieutenant all the way up to admiral. Abigail showed great interest in learning, hanging on his every word. He enjoyed telling her how the officers worked, the hierarchy of a ship. Explaining it to her made him remember why he had been so eager to join the navy in the first place.

"So, if you are a midshipman, you must be young. How old are you?"

"I just turned seventeen."

"Why, you are only a year older than me then, for I just turned sixteen last month!"

Abigail then started into a story about her sixteenth birthday party, telling about the people who came, and the tricks her three brothers pulled. She described each present, saying just how much she appreciated every single one. At the end she told him about the meeting with her father, and how he had introduced her to a man.

"The man was just as old as my father, which I suppose is not as old as he could have been; he was already balding. Anyway, he introduced himself as the Earl of somewhere, and told me how much he had heard about me from my father at court. Then he told me he would soon arrange our marriage with my father. He wanted to be married in spring! Once he left I immediately talked with my father, who said if I was so opposed to the idea he would not make me marry. It was shortly after that when my father decided to send me to Italy."

Archie listened to the story, all the while thinking how horrible a marriage of that kind would be. Nobles and aristocrats often married off their daughters for wealth or land or some other gain; but even knowing how common marriages between young women and older men were, he did not like the idea. No one in those families ever cared for the happiness or wishes of the girls, never bothered asking them what they wanted. Of course, he never shared his opinion, knowing others would take offense.

Their conversation ended abruptly when two sailors came down, bringing two pieces of bread and glasses of water. They passed the meals through the cell bars, rather than opening the door.

"I suppose you are lucky you were captured before they brought the first meal, so at least you get to eat something," Abigail said.

Archie, used to eating ships rations, began eating the bread immediately, using the water to get the awful aftertaste out of his mouth once he finished. He watched Abigail as she picked her bread apart, putting each piece in her mouth and swallowing before putting in the next. She also drank her water throughout eating, rather than saving it for the end. When they both finished, they handed their cups back to the sailors. As they disappeared up the stairs, some of their conversation echoed back to the prisoners.

"What did they say?" Archie asked once the voices disappeared.

"Nothing important," she told him. She wrapped her arms around her small body and began pacing around the small cell. Archie watched, wondering what she was thinking. "They were only talking about me again," she told him after several minutes.

Archie stared up where the sailors disappeared. He could imagine the things Abigail heard, unable to keep from listening and understanding. He promised himself that he would do everything he could to get Abigail out of this cell and back to her family, even if it cost him his life.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Archie's first night as a prisoner found the French ship in the middle of a storm. The huge waves crashed against the ship, rocking it to and fro. Howling winds added to the ship's unstable movements. Water poured onto the deck, both from the churning ocean and the rain falling from the black clouds above. The water made its way through the cracks in the deck and down the stairs, making sure everyone on board felt its bone chilling temperature.

The two prisoners below deck huddled in one corner of the cell, having experienced enough of being tossed back and forth across the cell, hitting bars on one side only to be thrown across to hit another side. Archie took control of the situation by helping Abigail get a grip on the bars in one corner, and then held her there by wrapping his arms around her to grab bars as well, shielding her from as much water as he could.

When the storm finally ended, Archie took a step away from Abigail, not wanting to appear presumptuous, but close enough to speak to and hear her over the roaring water outside the ship.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her. Her pale skin glistened with the water dripping from her face, but looked a light shade of blue that comes from extreme cold.

"C-cold," she answered through stuttering teeth. He quickly removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, hoping it would provide some extra warmth. She smiled at him, nodding her head in thanks.

Just then the ship took a large dive, probably due to the captain trying to ride out a wave rather than be flattened by it. Abigail clutched her mouth, and Archie knew she was going to be sick. He looked around for a pail, but saw nothing. Instead, he turned her body so she was facing the outside of the cell. Hopefully the water would wash it away from the cell.

For the next several hours, Abigail vomited every time the ship made large, sudden movements. All Archie could do was hope the waves settled soon. By morning, the waves calmed and the water stopped pouring in from above. Abigail looked an unhealthy shade of grey though. Her skin felt cold and clammy, except for her face, which felt warm. She slept most of the day, only waking when Archie shook her to give her food and water.

When Abigail did not seem any better the second day, Archie knew he had to do something. She needed medicine, and she needed to get off the ship. He yelled and screamed until someone came down. He tried to explain to the sailor that Abigail was sick, using the simplest words and hand motions. Eventually the sailor left and came back with the captain and an English speaking lieutenant.

"She sick?" the lieutenant asked Archie, making sure he understood. Archie nodded. The sailor spoke rapidly in French to the captain, who spoke back just as rapidly. "We land in two days." He held up two fingers to make sure Archie understood.

"She needs medicine," Archie told the man. "Medicine. She could die!"

Nothing more was said and the sailors left Archie alone with the sick Abigail. He watched Abigail for the next two days. She never showed signs of recovering, but she did not appear to worsen either. When the ship did finally dock, Archie carried Abigail off the ship, heavily guarded with guns pointed at him in case he ran. They led him to a French prison, but instead of a cell, they locked him in a room inside the garrison. He placed Abigail on the bed inside the room, looking around for something to light the fireplace with. A different French lieutenant came in shortly who spoke English.

"I was told the girl is sick. I brought a doctor, who will treat her in this room while she recovers. You will follow me to a cell in the prison."

"Please, I am the only one she can talk to, let me stay with her." Archie knew if they were separated now they would most likely never see each other again. He also wanted to be around to protect her if the need arose. The lieutenant considered his request.

"I will speak with my commanding officer. For now, I will let you remain here while the doctor treats the girl."

The doctor entered the room and the lieutenant left, locking them in. Archie knew a guard stood outside the door, in case someone tried to escape. He sat in a chair and waited while the doctor examined Abigail. He too spoke English, and asked Archie questions about her sickness. When he finished, he told Archie to feed her the food brought to the room, make her drink water, and pray, for he had no medicine for her. He lit a match and started a fire in the fireplace before leaving.

For the next few days, Archie did as the doctor instructed, feeding Abigail the fresh food brought in daily and helping her drink water. Thankfully the lieutenant returned with permission from his commanding officer for Archie to stay with Abigail. Her strength returned, along with some color in her face. Her temperature returned to normal, and finally she could sit and talk again.

"Where am I?" was her first question. Archie explained what happened after the storm. "What will happen now that I am better?"

"I do not know. I expect they will move me to a cell, but I do not know about you. They will eventually send you home, being a lady, but they may decide to keep you here longer than necessary." He refused to think about what would happen to her if the French did keep her for a short time.

"But they cannot separate us!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand that rested on the bed. "Who else will I talk to? I do not trust anyone else. Can you tell them you refuse to leave me?" Archie smiled at her, wishing things were so simple.

"I am afraid it is not that easy. I am a prisoner of war, a British sailor. They do not plan on treating me well, just like we would not treat them well in our prison. I do not think they will make me leave today," he told her, hoping to cheer her up. "Besides, I do not plan on staying here long."

"What do you mean?"

"We are going to escape, both of us. I am not sure how yet, but we will."

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, eager to help.

"Just listen to anything they say in French, because that is when they would say something we could use to escape, when they think we cannot understand them. But right now you need to rest. We cannot escape until you are completely better." Abigail nodded and settled down to sleep. Archie slowly extracted his hand from hers, not wanting to give the wrong impression to anyone who might walk in, or to Abigail.

As Archie predicted, he was allowed to stay with her until she fully recovered. During that time Abigail listened to every French conversation and told him what they said. By the end of the third day he had come up with a plan. It was risky, but it might be their only chance. First thing in the morning, when the lieutenant brought the food, Archie made a request.

"She needs fresh air, and there are no windows in this room. Please, let me take her for a short walk. You can send a guard with us." The lieutenant agreed, sending a guard. Just as Archie suspected, the guard spoke only French, so he couldn't understand what the two were saying.

Through Abigail, the two had learned about a merchant ship leaving with food and ammunition for a war ship out at sea. Archie planned to get aboard that ship and out to sea, then make their escape in a smaller boat and head towards England. He guided Abigail through the building, ending on a balcony on ground level, overlooking the gardens. Without warning, he turned around and quickly knocked out the guard, covering his mouth in case any sound escaped him. Taking the man's gun and laying him to the side, out of plain sight, Archie hopped over the small fence into the garden. He helped Abigail carefully get over the fence and the led her through the gardens towards the dock. They reached the outside of the fort when the alarm sounded. Archie grabbed Abigail's hand and half dragged her across the dock straight towards the merchant ship. Being a sailor, he recognized the supply ship at a glance. They snuck on board, hiding in a crate of rice. Once on board, he guided Abigail deeper into the ship; in a corner where they would not be found.

"Are you alright?" he asked when they had caught their breath. She nodded, still clutching her throat and breathing hard. "Sorry for all the running. I know you are still recovering, but this seemed like the only chance we would get."

"I do not mind. I just wish our chance did not involve another ship." Archie smiled at her and patted her shoulder.

He felt it when the ship set out to sea and breathed a sigh of relief. Now all they had to do was wait for a chance to steal a boat and head for England. Until then, they could just sit back and relax, and steal food while they waited.


	3. Chapter 3

Abigail showed signs of seasickness within hours of their departure. Archie did all he could for her, finding some bread for her to eat, rubbing her back, and talking to her to keep her mind on other things. Without the storm waves crashing against the ship, Abigail never vomited. By the second day, her sickness seemed to ease some, allowing her to get past it and focus on other things without his help.

"How do you plan to get us back to England from here?" she asked him.

"In a few days, we will take one of the small boats and sail back to England."

"But what about food? And storms? How will you know which way to go? What if our boat sinks?"

Archie had thought of all those questions himself. He had weighed the risks, but felt it worth trying, rather than staying on the French ship and risk getting caught and taken right back to the French prison. For a minute the idea of taking over the ship crossed his mind, but with only himself and Abigail, he knew they couldn't.

"It is better risking all those things than waiting here to be captured again. We can bring food from this ship with us. The worst storms of the season should be over now, and I was always good at navigation."

"Well, I suppose if you think we will make it then it is worth a try." Archie looked at her, surprised by her statement.

"Why do you trust me so much?"

"You are a British sailor," she told him, speaking as if he had asked her why she spoke English. "Why would not I trust you?"

"I was just surprised by how quickly you trusted me, and you never question anything I say. I find it interesting."

"Oh." She pursed her lips, thinking. Then she looked at him again. "Tell me why you became a sailor." It wasn't a question, nor an order, but more of a request.

"My father was a sailor; he died at sea when I was a young boy. My mother raised me to believe that my father was a great man because he was a sailor. He never got past the position of lieutenant, but she still respected him for it all the same. I fell in love with the sea and the way a ship was run. So I became a sailor because I wanted to and because my mother wanted me to."

"I am sure your father would be proud." Archie looked at Abigail, who smiled at him, so sure of her answer. He had always hoped his father would be proud of him, but hearing someone else say it made it mean more.

"Tell me more about your family," Archie asked her, wondering mostly about her brothers, whom she mentioned only briefly in her birthday recount.

"I have three brothers, one older, two younger. The oldest is George, named after my father. He studies hard to learn all there is to know about practically everything. He tries so hard to please our father because he will inherit the Dukedom of Marlborough. He is always so serious, and gets frustrated with my younger brothers when they pull pranks or act immature. He turned twenty at the beginning of the year. My second brother is Douglas, usually the instigator of most pranks. He is only twelve, though he turns thirteen in a month. Besides pulling pranks, he enjoys being outdoors. We have a lovely lake on our land, and he loves to go swimming ever since he learned how. Secretly, I have discovered he loves reading late at night when he thinks no one will catch him, but I found out. I promised not to tell anyone, since his reputation would be ruined. And my youngest brother, only ten, is William. He gets into trouble with Douglas quite often, but my parents go easier on him. We all know he only does it because he looks up to Douglas. Will always goes horseback riding with me. All of our horses love him. He is very good with all our animals, though I cannot figure it out. When he was little he was afraid of anything that moved, but now he is fascinated by every living creature."

"You love them quite a bit, do you not?" Archie knew she loved her family, he could hear it in her voice whenever she spoke about them. Her eyes got a far off look in them, as if she looked across the ocean to her home in England and could watch them doing everything she described.

"I do. I have friends who hate their families, especially their parents, but I love mine. I do not see my father all that much, but when he spends time with us he shows us how much he loves us. My mother can be aloof, pretending she does not want to be around us, but then other times she talks with us and lets us know how much she really does care. I remember one time when I was, oh, about seven, she called me into her room when I was getting ready for bed. I thought I had done something wrong because she never called me into her room. Instead, she let me sit on her bed and she brushed my hair while telling me about London and all the beautiful women there, and the fashionable things they wore. I have never forgotten that time we spent talking, just the two of us."

"Do you miss them?" Abigail nodded.

"Very much." Not wanting to make her cry, Archie quickly asked another question which hopefully would lighten the mood.

"What kinds of pranks have your brothers pulled?"

"They have pulled all sorts. One time I remember Douglas convinced Will to catch a frog and bring it into the house. He did of course, and then Douglas tried to put it in George's room, but the frog escaped. That night at dinner, the servant bringing out our food saw the frog on the floor right before it jumped on her foot. The poor girl screamed, dropped the food, and ran from the room. We tried to hold in our laughter, but we couldn't. Soon all of us kids were laughing, except George who waited to see what Father did, but even he started laughing. Thankfully Father did not fire the maid, but he did have Mother talk with her."

Archie could not help but laugh at the picture: a family sitting at dinner, a servant screaming and throwing food in the air, and a small frog the cause of it all. The frog probably had the worst of it.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" she asked him.

"No, I was an only child. My mother told me she had another baby, but it died minutes after it was born. I would have had an older sister."

"I am sorry. Did you have many friends?" Archie smiled at Abigail, thankful for her sensitivity, knowing when to change the subject.

"Yes. I probably would have been good friends with your brother Douglas, for I too was a great prankster. My mother did not always catch me, but she knew what I was up to. She loved me though, more than anything else in the world."

"That is what mothers do; they love their children."

"I suspect you will make a great mother one day, when you are married and have children of your own." Abigail blushed, and Archie scolded himself for making such a bold and improper statement. He quickly tried to correct his mistake. "Forgive me, Miss Spencer, I did not mean to, that is, I should not have . . ."

"I know you meant no offense. And, remember, I told you not to call me Miss Spencer. It makes me feel old. Please just call me Abigail. I promise I will not get you in trouble for it." Archie smiled, grateful for her forgiveness at both his blunders.

"And you may call me Archie."

"That is much easier to say than Midshipman Kennedy of the . . . what ship did you say again?"

"The Indefatigable," he told her with a laugh.

Easy, comfortable conversation filled their time for the next two days on the ship. Archie learned more about her family, and the duties required of her by being a Duke's daughter. In turn, he taught her more about ships, the names of the different sections and parts, teaching her small skills such as how to splice a line. On their fourth day aboard the ship, though, their luck changed.


	4. Chapter 4

Archie woke first, aware that something felt wrong. In the next second he figured out what. He heard cannons being fired on the French ship, and he hoped that meant a British ship. He shook Abigail gently, waking her up but telling her to stay silent by putting his finger to his lips. She nodded in understanding.

"I am going to try and see who is firing on us," he whispered. "Stay here, I will be right back." Again she nodded.

Archie snuck through the ship, weaving his way through boxes and bunks with a sailor's expertise. He managed to find a peep hole where he could see out at the enemy vessel. As he looked at the flag flying atop the main mast, his heart sunk. The ship was Spanish, not British. He hurried back to Abigail. She sat exactly as he had left her.

"It is a Spanish frigate."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we have to escape now or be captured by a different enemy." Abigail nodded and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell her his plan of escape. He groaned inwardly, wishing they hadn't waited an extra day to escape, because then they would already be on their way to England. Instead they were on an enemy ship being fired on by a different enemy ship. Suddenly the cannons stopped firing, and voices carried across the wind down to the two below.

"I cannot understand what they are saying," she told him. "I do not speak Spanish."

"I do. They are asking for the French to surrender." Cheers arose from the other ship, signaling the surrender of the French. Archie listened to the Spanish captain speak again, and his face paled. Abigail noticed.

"What is wrong? What did they say?"

"All the French sailors will be taken prison aboard the Spanish ship. Since this ship is not worth towing behind, they are going to blow it up."

"What do we do?" Abigail asked frantically.

Archie thought hard. If they gave themselves up, they would be taken prisoner by the Spanish and no doubt sent to a prison once they reached Spain. But they could not stay on the French ship otherwise they would die when it exploded. And there was no way for them to sneak onto the Spanish ship without getting caught. He could see no way around it.

"We have to give ourselves up and hope for a chance to escape before we reach Spain."

Abigail's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open slightly. Clearly she couldn't believe Archie would give up without a fight. She closed her mouth though and nodded, showing him her decision to follow him and continue to trust him, no matter what. He led her through the ship and up to the main deck, stepping into the sunlight for the first time in days. Immediately all eyes turned to them.

Archie understood as the Spanish captain asked the French captain who they were. When he denied knowing about their presence, the Spanish captain motioned they be brought aboard with the rest. He recognized Archie's British uniform and guessed at Abigail's status. Unfortunately, they both still ended up in the same cell with the French sailors. Minutes later they heard the explosion of the French ship.

"Archie, what do we do now?" Abigail whispered. They stood together in the back corner of the cell, the French keeping their distance and whispering among themselves.

"I do not know. What are they saying?" he asked about the French sailors.

"They are wondering how we got on their ship. They also hate the Spanish for blowing up their ship. I suppose that is natural."

A few minutes passed and the Spanish captain came down, along with one lieutenant. He spoke rapidly in Spanish to the lieutenant, who then spoke in French to the sailors.

"They are asking them where they were sailing," Abigail whispered discreetly to Archie. She did not bother translating most of the exchange because it seemed unimportant. It concerned the French arguing they only sailed on a trade route to get supplies to bring back to France for profit. The Spanish of course did not believe them and the argument lasted several minutes. Finally the captain and lieutenant left, discussing the argument no doubt and the fate of the prisoners.

"They are not interested in me because they know I am a British sailor, but they are not sure what to do with you yet," Archie told her, listening to the Spanish conversation. "They have guessed your high status and, like the French planned, will send you home once they reach Spain." He decided not to tell her what else they said, about possibly using Abigail to entertain the men on board.

"Have you thought of a way to get us out yet?" Archie shook his head, and they fell into a thoughtful silence. He analyzed their situation, trying to find a way out. He noticed Abigail listening to the French conversations around them.

The day passed without incident. Two Spanish soldiers stood guard outside the prison, though not next to the doors, but closer to the stairs leading to the upper deck. Bread and water arrived in the evening, enough for each prisoner. Shortly after, the French all settled down for the night, preparing to sleep. Archie wondered if he aught to stay up, in case someone tried something with Abigail. He looked next to him, where Abigail curled up in the corner of the cell. He had laid his jacket over her to keep her warm; with her small body, she got cold easily. For half the night Archie managed to stay awake, but he finally dozed off just after midnight.

It only felt like a few hours of sleep when Archie woke again. He did not move, wanting to know what caused him to wake up first. He opened his eyes and slowly surveyed the cell. Immediately he noticed one of the French sailors grabbing Abigail. Her muffled scream reached his ears, jolting him into action.

"Get off her!" he yelled at the sailor, aware they spoke different languages, but hoping his raised voice would translate into a similar meaning.

The man released his hold on Abigail, but handed her off to another sailor rather than to Archie. He put up his fists and said something in French, but Archie understood perfectly. The man planned on fighting him for Abigail, and he felt no qualms about settling the matter for good. He raised his fists as well, and the two began circling in the small, cleared area in the cell.

The Frenchman attacked first, swinging his left fist wildly in Archie's direction. Archie dodged easily, quickly sending his own jab and landing his fist in the man's stomach. When the man stumbled back, Archie avoided the amateur mistake of trying to follow up with another attack. He hoped to anger the man more, bringing about more mistakes and an easier win. The man's comrades pushed him back, cheering him on quietly so as not to alert the guards to the fight.

As both men continued beating on each other, the man holding Abigail maintained a strong grip on her. His right hand covered her mouth, preventing her from screaming. His left arm circled her waist, pinning both arms to her sides. She tried struggling, but the man only tightened his grip. Finally Archie landed a strong punch below the Frenchman's jaw, knocking him out cold. Abigail's captor released her and attended to his comrade. As he did so, he said something to Archie and spit in his face.

"He cursed you," Abigail translated quietly. She quickly positioned herself next to Archie, allowing him to lean on her for support while they returned to their corner away from the French crew. "Where are you hurt?"

"My injuries are nothing," he told her. His shoulders slumped from an unseen weight, and his head rolled back against the bars, seemingly unable to hold itself up any longer. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine. Please, tell me what I can do to help." He could see her desire to help him in her eyes, and decided it would not do any harm to let her try and help. He ripped off part of his sleeve and handed it to her.

"Take this and wipe the cut next to my right eye." She did as he told her, wiping the excess blood from his face and holding the cloth there to stem the bleeding. "What happened?"

"I woke up when the French sailor tried to pick me up. I kicked him in the face, though not hard enough, but he grabbed me again. I heard him tell his friend what he planned to do, and that is when I started to scream. He quickly covered my mouth, but I screamed again, and that is when you woke up." Archie shuddered, knowing exactly what the Frenchman planned to do to Abigail. He realized Abigail felt him shudder, still holding the cloth to his face, because she asked if something else hurt.

"I will be fine, do not worry about me."

"Why did you fight that man?"

"I had to fight him to make him let you go. If I did not fight him, he would only try again another night. This way they know they have to deal with me first, before they will even get close to you."

"So . . . you were defending my honor," she said, thinking out loud. Archie nodded in affirmation.

They sat in silence for several minutes, both busy with their own thoughts. Then Abigail removed the cloth from his face, telling him the blood finally clotted. She handed him back the cloth and he watched as she tried to get off the blood from her hand by wiping it on her shift, underneath her dress. She caught his eye and stopped wiping her hand, quickly covering her shift from sight.

"I hate dirty hands." Archie chuckled quietly, intrigued by Abigail's little quirks. "Why are you laughing?

"I am sorry; it is just, being a sailor, I tend to forget what it feels like to have _clean_ hands."

Abigail smiled. Shortly he saw her yawn and curl up on the floor again, falling back asleep. Archie thought about staying awake the rest of the night, but felt certain no other sailor would try anything that night, or again, if they had any sense of self preservation. With that knowledge, he quickly fell asleep too, hoping to figure out a way to escape the next day.


	5. Chapter 5

Archie thought of no brilliant plan to escape the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that, and so on. After another week at sea, he began to realize their chances of escape lay in the opportunities sure to arise when the ship docked in Spain. Unwilling to dampen Abigail's spirit, he told her he continued to think about it. While he thought, she began asking more questions.

"Do you know how to read?"

"Yes."

"Do you know how to write?"

"Yes."

"Can you do arithmetic?"

"Yes. Why are you asking all these questions?"

"I just want to know what kind of an education you had. My father made sure I learned French and Latin; how to read, write, and do simple arithmetic; how to play the piano; how to paint; which clothes are proper for what kinds of occasions; how to address different social ranks, which differ between men, women, and children; and of course how to dance."

"You learned all that?"

"Yes. Father hired private tutors. I had one for books, one for the arts, one for foreign languages, one for social knowledge, one for dancing, and one for horseback riding. He only taught me how to ride sidesaddle, but one of my friends taught me to ride astride a horse, bareback." She giggled, obviously knowing the impropriety of a woman riding anything but sidesaddle. "Naturally I never told my father or mother. My mother especially would have fainted at the scandal."

"I take it your mother was the sort who gossiped about the latest London scandals and was adamant that you never cause her any embarrassment?" Abigail nodded.

"She swore a painful death for me if I ever caused her a falling out in London society." Abigail smiled at the memory. "Of course she would not actually kill me, but I am sure I would have been punished severely."

"You know, you have told me all about your brothers and what they like to do, but you never talked about yourself."

"Oh. I spend lots of afternoons reading books in my father's library. It is full of books from so many different places, and I want to read every single one. I know I mentioned I like horseback riding. We have so much land, that it is a shame it doesn't get used more. I love riding out into a secluded area, memorizing the landscape, and returning home to paint it as best as I can. There is so much life out there. I hate rainy days though."

"Why?"

"Because they always make me sick, even if I do not go outside."

"Is that why you got so sick when we were on the French ship in the storm?" She nodded, staring at her feet rather than looking at him.

"They told me I was always sick as a child, and could not even start playing outside until I was five. The doctors told my parents I would not live past ten."

"And yet here you are, sixteen and still growing."

Abigail smiled at Archie, a smile that showed him how much the statement meant to her. He smiled back, very aware of the strange effect her presence had on his heart rate. It seemed as though he noticed her nearness to him for the first time, how close their bodies were to touching. He only had to move his hand an inch and he could curl his hand around her fingers. Abigail seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere between them, and withdrew her hand slightly from its place next to his. She looked away from his face and stared at nothing in particular, but her eyes avoided his. He too averted his gaze from her face, knowing he needed to change his thoughts before they betrayed him further.

"What about the land interests you?" he asked her, fishing for a topic to divert his attention. She seemed startled by his voice, but answered.

"I just love the way it is so alive. The trees grow taller and wider, never remaining the same for long. Flowers bloom and then shrivel, soon replaced by another bud which repeats the process. Whenever I am surrounded by nature, rather than the hard buildings that make up London, I feel alive too. I feel like I will never be sick again, like being in nature will keep me alive and well, not letting anything wrong ever happen. It is so beautiful out there, and there is always something new to see. I want to see different kinds of land too, though. I read about the vast deserts in the east, stretching as far as the eye can see in any direction. And there are jungles, with new plants and smells."

Archie smiled as he listened to Abigail, as much enthralled by her voice as her passion for nature. Her eyes sparkled, shining with her desire to travel. She spoke with more enthusiasm and intensity than he ever did about anything. Her longing to see new lands made his resolve stronger than ever to help her escape and get home, so she could go on her adventures to strange and distant lands. And then he would return to his life aboard a ship, sailing the sea for his country.

"I promise you will get out of here," he told her. "You will visit all the places you want and paint them so you will not forget what they look like." She sighed.

"Yes, but then I will not see you again, will I?"

"No, I must return to my ship."

He watched as Abigail frowned at the aspect of separating. Obviously the separation would happen, whether they wanted it or not. He still needed to fulfill his commitment to England, and her family required certain things of her as well. If she really wanted, he could probably visit her during the few times he received time off, but he felt sure her family would object. Why risk their daughter's reputation on a visit to see the sailor she met while imprisoned on a French ship. They might thank him for his help in rescuing her, but nothing more. Again he looked at her saddened face and wondered what thoughts crowded inside her head.

The ship finally docked in Spain. Archie and Abigail, chained along with the rest of the prisoners, marched out of the ship and onto the land. Spanish guards guided them to the Spanish prison. Once the gate shut behind them, banging home loudly the knowledge of their imprisonment, the chains came off and the prisoners separated. Guards took the French prisoners to a few cells and locked them in. Then they returned for Archie. Despite both their efforts, the guards dragged him to a cell and shut him in, leaving him screaming and beating against the bars that held him in. He watched as they took Abigail away, no doubt to a room rather than a cell, much like in the French prison. Only once she disappeared from sight and hearing did Archie look around his cell. He was utterly, and completely, alone.


	6. Chapter 6

After only a few days of imprisonment, a guard came and took Archie into the garrison and a locked room. Inside, he saw Abigail lying on a bed, pale and sweating, clearly ill. He rushed to her side and called her name, barely registering the door shutting behind him or the other man in the room. Abigail stirred and smiled when her eyes met Archie's. Only then did he notice the man in the room.

"What happened?" he asked, hoping to discover how Abigail became sick and why he had been brought out of his cell to see her.

"She became ill on her second day here," the man said in perfect English, "and refused to eat or even see a doctor until she saw you. Due to her importance, we hoped bringing you would convince her to let us help her get better. I will leave you two to talk while I call for a doctor. The door will be locked while I am away." Archie nodded and returned his attention to Abigail.

"I did it on purpose," she told him the minute the lieutenant left. "If I do not eat, my body starts shutting down right away. I found it out on a trip a few years ago, when our carriage broke and we were stuck in the middle of a forest for the entire day, waiting for help. I was sick the next day because I did not eat anything. They do not know I did not eat though; I threw the food out the window when they were outside the room."

"But why make yourself sick?"

"I thought it was the only way to see you again," she explained, her voice betraying her weakened state of health. "I thought if I got sick, and demanded to see you, they had to do it so I would get better. They know who I am and plan on sending me home, just like you said. But first I have to get better." Archie smiled, amazed by the intelligence of her plan. Of course they would do everything they could to help her get better, even if it meant letting him visit her just so she would agree to see the doctor.

"That is a brilliant plan," he told her. "But now you really do need to get better."

"No! If I get better, they will just take you back to your cell and we will be separated again."

"Abigail, you cannot be sick forever; they would eventually discover your plan. And I do not think your body could handle it."

Her skin glistened from the sweat, and already dark circles appeared below her eyes. He grabbed the wet cloth from the bowl on the table and wiped her face off. Her forehead burned with fever. And yet as sick as she was, Archie couldn't help but notice the subtle beauty of her facial features. He prayed silently that she hadn't made herself sicker than necessary, and would heal quickly, regardless of the resulting separation. The doctor came in then and she allowed him to examine her. Archie stood to the side, waiting. The lieutenant also stood there, translating for the doctor when he spoke.

"He says she must eat food, rest, and take medicine to get better," the lieutenant told Archie. "When she gets better you will return to your cell." Archie nodded, not wanting to give the man a reason to send him back to the cell early.

Archie tried to learn more about the prison while he stayed with Abigail, forcing her to eat and get better. The medicine, a liquid taken twice a day and smelling of rotten vegetables, always made Abigail sleep. During those times Archie stared out the window, looking over the same small view of the garrison and trying to find a way out. He thought about trying the same trick they used in the French prison, but this garrison was farther away from the dock and surrounded by open ground. He finally thought up a plan, risky, but it seemed like their only chance.

When Abigail recovered, the lieutenant returned Archie to his cell, just as he said. Before he left, he gave her a few final instructions to carry out before he started the escape process. Back in his cell, Archie memorized the schedule of the guards, knowing exactly when they changed shifts, when they brought him food, when they let him out in the afternoon, etc. Once he felt confident with his knowledge, he put his plan into action. He took a large dose of Abigail's medicine from the bottle he stole before he left. Immediately he fell into a deep sleep.

When the guard came to give him his breakfast, he saw Archie sprawled across the floor, facedown. He quickly checked for vital signs, but with no training as a doctor, declared Archie dead. With the help of another soldier, they carried the body out towards the dump, leaving him there until a man came to carry away the garbage. He woke up as they dropped him on the ground, and gleaned from their conversation that the man would come the following day to clear away the garbage. Hopefully Abigail would do her part before that happened.

The next day, as Archie learned later, the lieutenant told Abigail of her friend's sudden death. She wept convincingly, begging to see the body before they carried him away. The lieutenant sent a guard to take her to the dump so she could say a final goodbye to the body. When she reached Archie, she sobbed loudly over him, covering up his voice as he quietly told her what to do. After several minutes, the guard grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away to take her back to her room. While he did so, Archie took the dagger Abigail handed him and reached his arm about her to stab the guard. Then he jumped up and covered the man's mouth so he couldn't shout for help.

"How did you get the dagger?" Archie asked as he and Abigail ran from the prison towards the road. He remembered seeing the road from Abigail's window and knew merchants often traveled along it with wagons of their goods to sell or trade. He and Abigail crouched between some bushes, hiding until they could get into a wagon.

"Actually, I stole it from the lieutenant. He set it on the table near my bed and left it there while he visited. He was called out suddenly just before I left with the guard to see you, so I grabbed it in the few seconds I was alone in the room, before the guard came in."

"Good job." Archie smiled at her, impressed again by her ability to do what he asked.

A traveler came around the bend in the road shortly. He rode in the front of a large wagon, pulled by two strong horses. Archie checked the area for any Spanish guards, but saw none. After the man passed them, Archie grabbed Abigail and they left the safety of the bushes. He gave her a hand up into the cart, and she held out her hand to help him get in. The rocks in the road caused more than enough bumps to jostle the cart and hide their jumping into the cart. The two climbed farther back, hiding themselves under a blanket with other fancy goods.

As the day wore on, they shared a quiet conversation, whispering so as not to alert the driver to their presence. Archie wanted to make sure the man remained unaware of them, rather than risk him turning them back over to the Spanish.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, hoping the heat would not hurt her health.

"I am fine. How could you stand lying in the garbage without moving, pretending to be dead? I could hardly stand the smell when I first stepped outside."

"It was difficult, but my nose is not as sensitive as yours, thanks to my time at sea."

Abigail said nothing, and in the silence that followed Archie became painfully aware of her body next to his. To avoid any suspicion, they had pushed as far back into the corner as possible beneath the blanket. Their bodies pressed up against one another in the small space, reminding him of how small she was compared to his own bulk. His arm throbbed at its uncomfortable position between their two bodies, but Archie could do nothing to ease the discomfort unless he put his arm behind Abigail, and that simply would not happen. It would make things even more complicated, and put her in a position that could compromise her honor.

"Archie . . ." Abigail said after awhile. "Thank you for helping me. You have done so much to protect me and help me get home."

"We are not home yet," he gently reminded her.

"No, but still, thank you for everything you have done, and are doing. I couldn't ask for a better friend."

She looked him in the eyes, and he lost himself looking back. Her grey eyes drew him in, reminding him of the sea he missed. Before he realized what he was doing, he leaned towards her as she leaned towards him. His arm moved to the back of her head, guiding it closer to his. Their lips met, but just as the spark ignited at their connection, Archie broke away.

"I apologize," he told her, and meant it.

Archie berated himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. He returned his arm to its original position, ignoring his body's protests. Glancing over at Abigail, he saw her sucking on her lower lip. He did not know what to make of her expression. She looked hurt, like he had offended her, but sad at the same time, as if she could not do something she wanted.

"Are you okay?" he asked after another minute passed. She nodded her head, but did not meet his gaze. "Please look at me." Slowly, she raised her head.

When their eyes locked, the connection happened again. Archie felt as though Abigail spoke to him through her eyes, willing him to understand her feelings. She seemed to say she wanted him to kiss her, but her position demanded she ignore her heart's desire. Hoping he interpreted the look correctly, he leaned in, frightened and excited when she leaned in as well. Again Archie's hand found its way to the back of her neck. Their lips met, only this time neither pulled away.

The moment dissolved when the cart hit another bump, jostling the two and breaking them apart. While neither spoke about what happened, Archie's hand found Abigail's, weaving his fingers between hers. They spent the rest of the ride in silence, Abigail resting her head on his shoulder and falling asleep. Archie spent the time thinking about Abigail, and hoping for a chance for their relationship to work, despite the differences in their social status.


	7. Chapter 7

Archie knew when the sun started setting. The light diminished, the shadows lengthened, and the temperature dropped. He shook Abigail awake, thinking night a good time to leave the traveler before he discovered their presence. They carefully uncovered themselves and put the blanket to the side. As they crawled towards the open end of the cart, the man turned around and stopped the cart. When he spoke to them, Abigail looked to Archie for a translation.

"He wants to know who we are and where we came from," he told Abigail. Archie then spoke to the man in halting Spanish, trying to find the right words. After a short conversation, Archie told Abigail what was said. "I told him we only want a ride to the nearest town. He agreed to let us stay."

They crawled back to their original places. The sun disappeared and night fell completely. Another hour passed and Archie saw horses coming up towards them. He knew the horses carried Spanish soldiers. Quickly telling the man to say nothing of their presence, he covered them with a blanket once more. The cart slow a few minutes later as the soldiers approached.

Archie listened as the soldiers asked the man about two escaped prisoners, a British sailor and a British girl. He held his breath as the man slowly answered. Finally he spoke, telling the soldiers the two were in the back of his cart. The blanket was quickly pulled off their heads, revealing them to the soldiers. Archie saw the man holding a small purse of coins, obviously a reward for their capture.

The soldiers hauled the pair out of the cart. A soldier lifted Abigail to ride in front of him, while another tied Archie's hands together in front of him and forced him onto a horse by himself. His horse was then tied to the horse with Abigail. The group, containing ten soldiers, started riding back towards the prison. They rode at a slow pace, keeping an eye on Archie in case he tried to escape.

The pace allowed Archie to think about the situation and come up with a plan of escape. He knew if they reached the prison they had never escape again; he refused to let that happen. After some time passed and the soldiers appeared to relax a little, Archie kicked his horse, causing it to rear up on its hind legs. As it did, Abigail elbowed the soldier behind her and managed to push him off the horse. Then she switched her one leg over so she straddled the horse and looked to Archie for their next move, recognizing his escape attempt. He turned his horse around in a second; Abigail did likewise. Both then kicked their horses and made them start galloping at full speed in the opposite direction of the prison. Archie took the dagger Abigail gave him back at the prison and cut the rope tying his horse to Abigail's, and the rope around his hands.

They rode hard for several miles until they reached a small, seaside town. They left the horses in a barn on the outskirts of town. Then they headed into town, winding through the streets down to the shore. One dock had been constructed right next to a cliff, only allowing small boats to anchor there. Archie led Abigail to a small boat at the end of the dock, guiding her through the fog by hand.

"We are going to have to steal a boat if we want to escape," he told her quietly, hoping she would understand. "If we leave now, the fog should cover our escape and help us get away."

"I trust you, so do what you need to." Her trust in him warmed his heart, encouraging him.

He carefully stepped into the boat and held out his hand to Abigail to help her in. Just as she lifted her foot to step in, he heard a sound that made his heart stop. He heard guns being lowered, certainly aimed at them. A man shouted for them to slowly raise their hands, and step away from the boat or risk being fired upon. Archie thought quickly, believing the fog would keep the soldiers from aiming properly. He pulled on Abigail's hand, silently telling her to get into the boat. As her foot made contact on the boat, and the fog made it impossible to see the soldiers clearly, he heard a shot ring out.

"No!" Abigail yelled. She positioned herself between Archie and the soldiers, obviously trying to protect him. Archie saw when the bullet hit her, watching as her entire body shuddered at the impact. She fell backwards, into his arms. He held her, speechless, staring at the spreading blood on her chest. "Go," she whispered to him. She raised her arm and laid her hand gently on his cheek. "Escape. Live."

Hearing the soldiers running on the dock sent him into action on autopilot. He cast off the boat without thinking, still clutching Abigail in one arm. Only minutes passed before they set out to sea, but she had already died. Her eyes were closed, making her look peacefully asleep. He hated thinking that her heart no longer beat and her lovely eyes would never open again, never see the different lands she had wanted to so badly. As Archie realized she was dead, tears forced themselves past his barriers and ran down his cheeks in torrents. He held her close, wishing and praying for a miracle. Nothing changed though.

The boat drifted aimlessly on the sea, Archie never bothering to steer it in one direction or another. Morning arrived, the sun illuminating her pale skin, giving her an unearthly glow. Archie lay in the boat, curled up, refusing to acknowledge anything but Abigail's body lying beside him. Eventually the boat ran into something, and he heard voices shouting above him. He had run into a Spanish boat waiting to dock. They hauled him aboard, and physically tore him away from Abigail's body. They then returned him to the prison he had only just escaped from, and the lieutenant threw him in the same cell.

Archie gave up. Without Abigail, why continue living? His life felt empty without her, and he knew he could never replace her. Ignoring Horatio's question, refusing to ever talk about Abigail to anyone, he felt himself slipping into oblivion and welcomed it.

When he woke up, he felt angry. He did not want to live, not without Abigail. As he argued with Horatio though, he realized she would want him to keep living. She had sacrificed herself so he could live, after all. If he gave up now he would dishonor her, and he couldn't do that. He did not care what Horatio said, for it made little difference to him; but right then he decided to get better and live his life the way she would have wanted him to, even if she couldn't be with him.


End file.
